


Fight Club

by Saint_Rick_The_Dick



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blood, Blood As Lube, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fighting, Punching, Rough Sex, Scratching, Vaginal Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 15:45:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14047557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saint_Rick_The_Dick/pseuds/Saint_Rick_The_Dick
Summary: You start a fight with Rick. He fights back. Chaos ensues.





	Fight Club

In retrospect, you should have known that smacking Rick upside the head while he watched TV would only result in a series of Very Bad Things™, but you were pissed, not in the mood to play nice after the bullshit he pulled on you with the Gazoropian marrow extract. That gunk had made you so sick you missed three days of work, and his only response when you begged him to just  _do something_  was a shrug of his shoulders and a reminder that the side effects would pass  _eventually_  and J _esus_  stop being such a little bitch. **  
**

Your hand impacted the side of his head hard enough to rock his entire upper body to the left, though he regained quickly and was on his feet before you had a chance to dish out another blow. When he turned, his face was twisted with rage, his unibrow a solid V of anger as he snarled.

“W-w-what the _fuck_  was that?!”

Despite his ire, you weren’t backing down. You were _livid,_  jabbed a finger at his chest.

“You old bastard! I’ve asked you before not to treat me like some kind of human litmus test! If you need someone to be your guinea pig ask Morty!”

Though you were seperated by the sofa, Rick’s reach was impressive, his speed uncanny, so when he shot out to grab your wrist you had no time to react. His grip was iron, and your bones ground together beneath the pressure. You hissed with pain, but knew better than to try and twist out. Rick was entirely too strong for a man of his age.

“Y-y-you don’t - you  _survived,_  right? You’re not - not fucking dead or dying or puking up green shit anymore. So what’s - what exactly is your goddamn problem, huh?”

He stepped onto and then over the couch to close the distance. You waited for his feet to hit the floor, his face to be inches from yours before you gripped the lapel of his lab coat and yanked.

Rick had time to release a surprised “Whaa-?” before your forehead impacted his nose, the adrenaline coursing through your system numbing the sensation. You grinned, manic and deranged, when Rick yelled released your wrist to cup his bruised face with both hands. You could see the blood seeping down around his palms, and it drove your madness to a fever pitch.

This was going to be a fucking  _fight_.

There was a low growl, dangerous and savage, his eyes narrowed, and then he pounced. The retaliation was expected - Rick didn’t appreciate it when you challenged his authority - and you were able to half-dodge. This meant he only caught you on your hip instead of your middle, but it still hurt, was enough to send you both sprawling to the ground. You landed on your side with a yelp, tried to scrabble away, hands searching for purchase on the carpet, but he pulled you down, trapping you beneath his superior weight. Blood ran from his nose, and when he grabbed your wrists, slammed your arms to the floor, crimson droplets rained onto your face and chest as he arched his back to press in closer. Your frenzy had not dissipated, yet beneath that river of fury ran an undercurrent of desire you tried to push away. After what he did to you, he deserved only venom.

“God _damnit_ , Rick! Let me  _go_!”

But rather than respond with words, he leaned in, sank his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck, gnawed until he broke the skin. The agony was white-hot and intense, and you shrieked. When you felt your blood run, you writhed, kicked your legs. It was only later you realized how lucky you were to catch him with a knee to the groin, as that fortuitous event gave you the opportunity to break free, scramble to your feet.

And then you ran.

Rick roared with pain and rage, stumbled, stood, and pursued, stripping off his lab coat in the process.

You knew at this point he was beyond mercy, and while the chase was brief, it resulted in chaos. His long legs meant he caught you with ease, grabbed for your upper arm, his bony fingers digging in with cruel efficiency, nails leaving a line of little half-moons.

“What the  _fuck_  do - ?!”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence, using your momentum to spin around and swing with your free hand. Aiming for his cheek, you missed, hit his chin. Your knuckles stung with the impact, but it was enough to throw him off balance and he was forced to take a step back. The reprieve was short lived as his fist came around, connected with your middle, making you gasp and double over as he knocked the air from your lungs. Yet, high as you were on endorphins and hysteria you recovered quickly, rammed your head into his stomach. He “oofed” at the blow, took another step back, and that loosened his hold just enough for you to wrench free. He left you a collection of scratch marks, but you ignored the burn, reached for the first object you could find - a picture frame - and hurled it at his head before you turned to take off again. 

Fleeing for the garage, you tried to slam the door in his face but he kicked it open. His visage was ghastly - nose a mottled purple, blood still running freely - and when he bared his teeth you could see they were stained pink. You knew you were trapped. Fear and arousal in equal measure wound its way down your spine, pooled between your legs, and when Rick pinned you up against the shelf with a hand to your throat you keened, tried to roll your hips. But he growled, gripped a hip with his other hand, dug in. His voice dripped with repressed violence.

“Y-y-you - you fucking crazy  _bitch_! What the - what’s your goddamn problem, huh?!”

But when he clung to you, you could feel the hard, hot line of his cock through his clothes, knew you weren’t the only one infected with that heady mix of adrenaline and desire. You trembled, craned your neck up just enough to reach his chin and ran your tongue along it to collect the sheen of spit and blood. The skin was rough with stubble, and you closed your eyes, moaned, rubbed your thighs together. You craved friction, the insistent warmth overriding your previous fight or flight response.

Amused at the wanton display, Rick chuckled, narrowed his eyes, bit his lip as the hand on your hip traveled down to cup the swell of your ass. He hummed his approval.

“Dirty little slut. Y-y-you - bet you’re already wet for me. That pussy is - you want my fat dick? Want me to fuck you open?”

The question was rhetorical. He knew your cunt was slick and aching and you needed him.

He released your throat, ordered you to remove your shirt. Once done he offered praise - “Gooood girl” - and you flushed at the words. Another rush of desire as you watched him peel off his blue sweater revealing his bony shoulders and scrawny chest. You reached out, dug your nails into the sallow skin of his pecs, earning yourself a grunt, but that freedom was short lived. He captured a wrist, twisted it hard, used it to turn you around. Pinning your arm behind you, he pushed you up against the shelves, bit the back of your neck. You wailed in pain, his teeth leaving tiny crescents in their wake, but that taste of misery only made you want him more.

It was with the two of you distracted - Rick grinding his cock into your ass, and you whining, pleading for him - that a container on the top shelf full of maroon liquid toppled and spilled its contents onto your heads. You gasped at the cold slickness as it dripped from your hair, ran rivulets down your back. The substance was thick, reminded you of blood, and it stained your skin a deep red, seeped into the waistband of your pants, made you shiver. It covered Rick as well, drizzled down over his face and chest. He cursed, but didn’t stop.

“Fuck! Th-that - goddamnit that shit was  _expensive_!”

You tried to ask what it was but he snapped at you to shut up as he worked the button and fly on your jeans, pulling them down along with your panties. Unhindered, the scarlet ooze continued its lazy path, seeped over your hips, down your thighs, one trail running through the crack of your ass.  There was the familiar clink of his belt buckle and zip of his fly and then he slid the fat head of his cock along your wet slit gathering that moisture, teasing you. You couldn’t take it anymore, and you rocked your hips back, desperate for him to fuck you, fill you.

“Rick,  _please_!”

“Mmmm, greedy little slut. Ffuck you’re so wet and - and _nnnf_ \- “

Thrusting in once, filling you perfectly, forcing you to feel his full length and girth, he gave you no time to adjust. Rick groaned, low and guttural, praised the tight heat of your cunt, and then picked up a brutal pace, his narrow hips slapping against your thighs as he fucked you. His hand encircled your throat, tightened, and he pulled, forcing you to arch your back to take more, deeper. You sobbed as he split you open, his cock too much, too thick with so little preparation. Both of you were filthy, covered in that strange, red liquid, but you didn’t care. Neither did Rick, too focused on claiming you, rutting you. His breath was harsh, and already you could feel that delicious tension, the swell of pleasure, and you moaned, clenched, begged to reach for your clit. But he wasn’t done with you and denied that relief.

“Don’t you - y-y-you don’t get to cum yet, slut. I-I-I wanna - you’re gonna scream for me when I shove my cock in your ass.”

Rick pulled out, gathered the red, viscous fluid on his palm. Spreading your cheeks, he pushed one and then two stained fingers into your tight, puckered entrance. You keened at the sting, but held your place as he worked to stretch you open, prepare you for him. When you pushed back on his hand, he growled at your insolence but withdrew. You heard him hawk and spit, twisted around so you could watch him slick his cock with a combination of saliva and what you were now convinced was some kind of alien blood, and then he placed the head to your ass, and slowly, slowly pushed his way inside.

The pain was immediate but it grounded you, helped you focus. When he breached the little ring of muscle to sink in fully he moaned, placed one hand on your hip, the other on your shoulder, rolled his hips twice, and then found his rhythm. Your body swallowed him willingly as he fucked you hard and slow, as he took his pleasure from you and growled that you would feel all of him, take all of him. You cried his name, half-coherent, your empty pussy throbbing as he filled your ass.

“Rick! Rick,  _please!_ ”

He knew what you needed to fall apart and at last granted permission. You found the stiff little button, fingers sliding over slick flesh. The undulation of his hips, his thick cock filling you over and over, and then you sobbed, crested and peaked. Climax slammed into you, release a magnificent rush of bliss that stole your breath, your sense. His name poured from your mouth as he fucked you through it, chasing his own completion. Approval and degradation, carnal appreciation, a string of filth in his gruff voice, and then he faltered and stalled, thrust in to the hilt as he came, his load hot and wet and slick.

When he removed himself, tucked away his softening cock, you felt his cum leak from your ass, dribble down the inside of your thigh, but it didn’t matter. The two of you were still soiled, covered in the foreign goop, though it had begun to dry, going tacky to the touch. Finally, you had to ask.

“What is this stuff?”

Running a hand over his chest, he painted a red ruin, smearing crimson down his stomach. He smirked as you tracked his fingers, bit your lip. Even freshly fucked you couldn’t deny the effect he had on you.

“Korblockian blood. We uh - w-w-we should probably wash this shit off. It - it contains hallucinogenic properties and if we leave it on our skin too long - “

But you didn’t let him finish. With wide eyes you shrieked, pointed over his shoulder. The wall behind him appeared to be breathing, pulsating, had even grown fur.

“Oh my  _god_! What the hell is going on?!”

Rick snorted laughter, shrugged his shoulders.

“Welp. Tooooo late. Looks like we’re going on a fucking trip, baby. Buckle-up buttercup. Might as well - y-y-you better enjoy it. Should be over in about - effects’ll probably wear off in 48 hours. Maaaaybe 72.”

And all you could manage to do was bury your face in your blood-stained hands and groan: “Not again…”


End file.
